A Series of Random Happenings
by Niamhi
Summary: This is a collection of Random Happenings. I think I'd just eaten spiked birthday cake and it was late at night when I wrote the first one, so don't expect much insight.
1. Chapter 1

"How do you plead?"

"Innocent," replied Harry.

"You plead guilty?"

"No! Innocent."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

There was a sigh. "If you insist…"

Mafalda Triddlebottom frowned slightly and pushed her thick spectacles slightly further up her long, bumpy nose.

She picked up a thick sheaf of parchment and began to read.

"You are accused of the following offences: three counts of murder-"

"What? Last time it was just two!"

"We _reconsidered, _Potter," sniffed Mafalda, "Now be quiet. Three counts of murder, assault-"

"I wouldn't call Stunning someone because they tried to kill me assault."

"I SAID BE QUIET! Now…Three counts of murder, assault and robbery."

"Robbing what, exactly?"

"Objects out of Professor Snape's cupboard."

"Who told you that?"

"We guessed," grinned Mafalda, "Now you've confirmed our suspicions."

Harry muttered something rude under his breath but stayed quiet.

"Look over there, Potter!" screamed Mafalda suddenly.

"What am I looking at?" asked Harry bewilderedly, spinning around in his chair to the direction she was pointing. It was one of the Aurors- a tall, slim Chinese woman who widened her eyes at the sudden yelling.

"SEE! RACISM!" cackled Mafalda, "Three counts of murder, assault, robbery, and racism."

"How?"

"You looked at her funny."

"Because you were _screaming at her."_

"Whatever. Oh my goodness, look at that!"

Harry folded his arms. "I'm not falling for it."

"Disobeying a Ministry officials orders! There we go. Yet _another _crime."

Mafalda giggled childishly. "Guilty! Bubi now!"

She yanked a lever and Harry fell down into a black hole in the floor.

She looked down into the hole and scolded, "You're not _allowed _to leave until I say so, Potter."


	2. Second part of a oneshot ?

Uberlot: Thanks  I do like your story, by the way.

Julia: Yay. As I always say, good comes out of spiked provisions.

This was originally going to be a one shot, but I decided I'm going to make "A series of Random Happenings". Like before, don't expect me to have any deep meaningful plotlines in this. The first story was written late at night having consumed a suspected spiked birthday cake at a party, this time I'm just bored, and when I get bored I get weird. Enjoy chapter two. It's (if you haven't guessed by the second line) based a thousand or so years ago with the four founders of Hogwarts. Basically this is poking fun at them because I'm jaded. Hey- (looks up)- my A/N is almost longer than my story! Yay! Now for a disclaimer!

Disclaimer: I can't say that I own this story, or the characters, because the Warner Bros. were upset with me when I pretended I did. This applies to chapter one because I forgot.

"Come on, Sal, tell me where it is."

Salazar stuck out his tongue childishly. "Not 'til you throw out the Muggles."

"They're not Muggles- they're _born _of Muggles, but they're just as good as everyone else."

"No no no no no!" Salazar replied, "Not listening! Lalalalala!" He stuck his hands over his ears.

"Maybe when your Immaturifyingness charm wears off tomorrow you'll come round," Godric sighed.

"I didn't mean to, Godric," Helga said touchily, "I was trying to cut his hair. Are you sure you won't let me try again?"

"We're sure," reproved Rowena, looking up for the first time in an hour from her thick book.

"Just because YOU'RE smart," snapped Helga, albeit fairly pleasantly, "We're not all geniuses."

"Back to the point," lisped Salazar like a toddler, "Sal no like Muggles. Sal say get stuffed!"

"Watch your language, sweetie," said Helga, "Anyway, it's two years tomorrow when I did that charm, you'll see sense in the morning."

Godric glanced at his watch, the only one in the country that he knew of. The Muggles were far too stupid to work out clocks yet.

"It's half past five in the evening, you need your sleep Sal. Are you completely sure you don't want to tell me where you put this secret passageway?"

"Sure as sure can be. Night night!" sang Salazar, "Stinky Godric."

"Don't call me stinky."

"I'LL CALL YOU WHAT I LIKE!" yelled Salazar, "You're not the boss of me."

Salazar stood up from the comfy armchair by the fire.

"I never want to see you again! I hate you!"

"Dear me, he's finally got to the teenage years. It's taken you a while," Helga smiled.

Salazer pouted and ran out the room.

"He'll be back for milk and cookies soon enough," Helga said with a mothering tone in her voice, "I must say, I _hope _he comes out of the "I-hate-non-purebloods" stage. It's terribly annoying, yet endearing. I wish I'd had children…" Helga trailed off wistfully, with the traditional female addition, "But it wasn't to be…"

"Oh, shoosh," Rowena scolded, "I'm at a good bit."

"You're at a good bit in 'How the Muggles believe they invented the wheel, by Frederic Dungbomb'? How?"

"Quiet, you. And anyway, it's Frederic Mungbomb. Dungbombs haven't been invented yet."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Well, not to _you._"

(Asterix asterix asterix)

**The Next Day**

"Where's Sal? He normally wants his Cheerios by now," asked Rowena.

"What are Cheerios?" asked Helga.

"I don't know, they haven't been invented yet."

"You're still not making sense."

"Like I said, not to _you_," Rowena replied, "Anyway, I think Sal's missing."

"Oh."

"He'll turn up."

"Yeah."

"Let's have some Weetabix."

"What's that?"

"Don't know. Not been invented."


	3. Draco For Niamhi Forever

Don't expect this to be serious. When I try to write dramatic moments, I have a giggling fit.

Disclaimer: Rubber Ducky owns Harry Potter. Not me. (JK Rowling, I suppose, owns a little.) Rich Rubber Ducky.

"Go away Malfoy."

"Nope."

"Why are you STALKING me?"

"I need to talk to you. I'm planning on assassinating Ron for You-Know-Who, are you okay with that?"

"No!" yelled Hermione, "Why would you _ask _me such a thing?"

"I don't want to upset you."

"Alright. If you don't want to upset me, go away."

"Apart from that."

"And don't kill Ron."

"If you insist, my lovely. He's not right for you, you know."

Hermione growled. "I'm going to the Gryffindor common room, which means YOU can't come."

"Oh that's fine," replied Draco, "I painted an endless cookie pot for the Fat Lady and in return she told me all of next year's passwords."

"She doesn't plan that far ahead," answered Hermione.

"Does now. Anyway, are we going? I'm cold."

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONG? YOU USED TO HATE ME!"

"Changed my mind."

Hermione ran off, pursued by a screaming Draco Malfoy yelling "But 'Mione! My love! Come back!" followed by a "Mais 'Mione! Mon amour! Do you like French? Did I say it right? Oh no, now I've upset you by butchering a romantic language!"

He scolded himself.

With a rushed offering to the Fat Lady to draw an endless chocolate éclair box in her painting in exchange for the refused entry of Malfoy, Hermione climbed through the portrait hole and ran to Harry.

"Help me! Draco's stalking me! He won't leave me be since I tried to kill him."

"Yeah, your hair looks fine," replied Harry offhandedly, as he was trying to do his Psychology homework- "How to compliment girls, fourteen inches of parchment."

"I didn't ask that!"

"Have you lost weight?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and gave up. She went to Ron and explained her troubles.

"Another boy, 'Mione?" he scowled, "Am I going to beat him up or what?"

"Not any boy. Draco. He thinks an assassination attempt is endearing."

"Oh. Well, it doesn't matter. He's fallen into the lake."

"He has?" said Hermione hopefully.

She looked out the window. "So he has."

Draco was being pulled by the giant squid into the murky depths of the lake and he lived happily ever after, with gills.

A/N: Any ideas for weird story lines, please tell me. Author appeal! Hehehe. I've written up to this one all in like two days (it's not very challenging, I have to admit.) But I'm running out of ideas, so any suggestions and I'd be forever grateful.


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